Playing Games
by SciFiDVM
Summary: Written as part of the Secret Snowflake festivities on Live Journal. The prompt was: WITSEC office game night. And somehow, from that innocent prompt, smut happened.


**Title:** Playing games  
**Author: **SciFiDVM  
**Pairings/Characters:** Mary/Marshall, cameo by the Fleigler 2000  
**Rating:** M there's sex… but it's on a level I'd call smut-lite  
**Prompt/Summary/Spoilers/Warnings:** Originally written for likelike_love as part of the Secret Snowflake festivities over on LiveJournal. Prompt #2: (WITSEC) office game night

**A/N:**There's something about the glow of the Christmas lights on the house, the twinkle of the lights on the tree, the dogs playing in a pile of wrapping paper, the smell of hot chocolate and the ham baking in the oven that really makes it feel like Christmas… and makes me feel like trying to write smut for the first time… Totally appropriate, right? And Eleanor is here too. She never left. It's like a Christmas miracle, let's accept it and roll with it.

…_..._..._...

The Fleigler 2000 claimed to have the ability to staple through eighty pieces of paper. Mary had tested the stapler thoroughly and proven that beyond a shadow of a doubt, the Fleigler could in fact staple up to 83 sheets of paper in one effort. Apparently the force required to penetrate a common office staple through eighty pages also exceeds the amount of pressure that can be withstood by one of the human phalanges. No one was willing to come clean about how the incident occurred, but somehow, Marshall's foot had ended up in the device.

Marshall was recovering at home after the Friday morning trip to the ER. X rays had revealed a thoroughly broken toe and a metal foreign body embedded in the fracture bone. A shot of local anesthetic and a small incision had been necessary to dig out the broken off arm of the staple. He would be in a walking cast for the next two to four weeks to allow the toe to heal.

Around 4 that afternoon Eleanor called him to see how he was doing and if there was anything she could do for him. He took full advantage of the situation and requested that everyone from the office come meet at his apartment that evening for dinner and a round of board games. The fact that Mary begrudgingly agreed to attend spoke to her guilt in the matter more resoundingly than an actual confession would have. She also continued to skulk around the office for the remainder of the day, in a mood more somber and withdrawn than was typical for even days when Marshall wasn't around.

Shortly after 5:30 the WITSEC office was empty. Stan, Eleanor, and Charlie had decided to drive together, as there was safety in numbers, and it gave them each that many more potential reasons to escape early if things at the little party took a turn for the worse. On the way they had stopped and picked up a bottle of red wine and the take out order Marshall had called into a little Italian restaurant down the block from his place. Marshall greeted them warmly at the door. He was wearing a well-worn white t shirt and grey sweatpants. The right pant leg was pushed up to just below his knee, leaving room for the walking cast that extended half way up his calf. Charlie was the last to enter and Marshall gazed out the door behind him. Eleanor noted that the look in his eyes was hopeful at first, followed by disappointed.

"She wanted to drive separately. Said she had to pick up a few things, but that she'd be here shortly." She consoled the man.

"Huh? What? I wasn't… I mean… ok." Marshall obviously hadn't expected her to pick up on his longing glance. Eleanor wasn't ignorant to the innuendo and goings on between the two partners, but this level of angst ridden pining was a bit more than Marshall usually let show. A quick glance around the apartment revealed the cause. Two small vials of orange translucent plastic with white caps and large prescription labels sat next to the sink in the kitchen. Eleanor joined Stan in said kitchen as he and Charlie began setting out the take out containers of chicken parmesan, lasagna, bread sticks, and house salad. She subtly nudged him with her elbow to get his attention. Once she had it, she glanced at the bottle of prescription pain killers by the sink until his gaze followed hers. Then she looked towards the bottle of wine and curtly shook her head.

Stan nodded obediently. Marshall's already stoned, they should keep him away from the booze. Not exactly news to him. God he had feelings for this woman, but sometimes she really underestimated him. Most times it was about as effective as herding squirrels, but he had been this pair's wrangler for years before she had gotten here. He could have told her that the younger inspector was hopped up on Vicodan the minute he requested their presence on a Friday night. There was only one reason to have them there, intruding on what was his typical alone with Mary time. Marshall knew the effect that the meds would have on him and he didn't trust himself. Her crappy attitude all day made it a sure bet that Mary would have shown up at his place tonight regardless of what they did. The rest of them would serve as a buffer while the pain meds dropped his guard. Stan was happy to oblige for the night.

Charlie was just excited to be included in the extracurricular activities for once.

They were all sitting around Marshall's kitchen table, mostly done with their meals. Conversation had been jovial, and the food was quite good. Everyone was in good spirits when they heard a key turn in the lock of the front door and the unmistakable sounds of Mary Shannon entering the apartment. Marshall jumped up as quickly as the cast would allow, his mood obviously becoming even more cheerful. The remaining three at the table all noticeably tensed at the arrival.

Marshall attempted to help her with the objects clutched in her arms, but she shrugged him off. Mary had a bottle of tequila in one hand and a box containing the board game Twister in the other. Upon recognizing the objects she was carrying, Stan and Eleanor both dropped their heads into their hands. The room had gone still and silent. Charlie wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but the expressions on everyone else's faces were enough to leave him rightly petrified.

"Wow. And here I thought I was going to liven up the party." Mary waggled the items in her hands, "But it seems like you guys totally got that covered" she finished sarcastically. She put the items down on the counter, opened a cabinet, extracted a small glass, and poured herself a generous shot of the tequila. She grabbed a fork and took a few bites of everything directly from the serving containers before downing the shot.

Eleanor attempted to diffuse the tension, "Mary, so glad you made it. We were about to pick which game to play. Do you have any thoughts?"

"Oh… I have some thoughts alright."

"How about Pictionary?" Stan offered to the group, cutting Mary off.

"I'm not the greatest drawer, but I can guess pretty well." Charlie chimed in.

"I'm sure you can, kid." Stan offered.

They all quickly finished up anything they still wanted to eat and moved to the living room with what was left of the bottle of wine. Mary grabbed two beers out of Marshall's fridge before joining the others in the living room. She handed him one despite the reproachful looks from Eleanor. They sat together on the love seat, and Stan, Eleanor, and Charlie sat on the couch. As expected the teams were divided thusly. Interest in the game waned quickly. Charlie was, in fact, a terrible artist. Stan and Eleanor would have been able to hold their own, but there was just no competing with the Marshals whose lives depended on being able to read each other's minds or body language on a daily basis. Mary could guess what Marshall was going for usually with three straight lines or less. Marshall would guess what Mary's topic was within twenty second every time, despite the fact that everything she drew looked markedly phallic.

The next game they tried was called Apples to Apples. Everyone got 5 red cards with a random noun on each. They all took turns flipping over a separate stack of green cards that had an adjective on it. The other players would submit their noun that they thought best matched the adjective. The person that had flipped the adjective card got to pick the winner. The first adjective card was flipped over by Stan. The word was "fragrant". The matching submissions included "roses", "turkey dinner", "candles", and "airplane restroom". Unsurprisingly the bathroom one had come from Mary. The submissions just became more sarcastic or insulting from that point on. They decided that they had all had just about enough of the game after Mary's submission for the adjective "visionary" was "Hellen Keller".

"That's just wrong." Eleanor shook her head.

They were out of feasible game ideas and it was approaching 10:30. Stan and Eleanor graciously excused themselves and dragged Charlie along with them. Mary's attitude had not improved much throughout the night, and they realized that the partners likely had something that they needed to work out. Marshall didn't seem too effected by the pain meds and didn't appear to have actually drunk any of the beer Mary had handed him. He was probably as safe as any other time he was alone with her.

Marshall politely saw the guests to the door as Mary lounged on the couch.

"I thought they'd never leave." Mary sighed.

"You know, it's not uncommon for people to enjoy mingling with their colleagues in a setting outside of their work environment."

"Whatever. I think TLC is showing one of those 'When retards think monkeys are their children then get their faces eaten by them' shows." Mary grabbed the remote and Marshall settled in next to her on the couch.

About thirty seconds of the reality show aired before they both grumbled. "Rerun." Marshall announced sadly and Mary began channel surfing. They stopped on 1,000 ways to die because it was the one where the guy got irradiated to death by an X ray machine at the hospital when a doctor and a nurse started having sex in the radiology booth and the chick's ass repeatedly hit the exposure button as the guy nailed her against the control panel. That one never really got old. Unfortunately it was followed by the story of a guy that died of tetanus after stepping on an old staple gun staple from the previous year's Christmas lights. That one hit a little too close to home, and Mary sobered noticeably.

Marshall noticed and attempted to lighten the mood, "For the record, I know you didn't mean to hurt me."

"Correction, you know I didn't mean to hurt you this badly."

"I meant exactly what I said." He countered.

"Marshall," She had no idea how to say what she needed to say, "this wouldn't be the first time I hurt you and you know it. You had to know what would happen. Weren't you afraid I might hurt you?"

"I don't see the point in living in fear of what might happen."

That did it. It was relatively stupid in the grand scheme of things. They'd both nearly died of gunshots before and that didn't do it. But something about seeing him in the hospital because of something she caused, even if it was just a broken toe, made her feel miserable. She had known for quite a while that his feelings for her extended beyond partnership, and had tried to avoid it because she wasn't ready for that. She certainly saw him as more than just her partner at work, but she refused to let the evaluations stray much beyond thoughts of friendship, because she wasn't willing to risk everything they already had. Some of her attempts to avoid the eventually inevitable introspection and conversation had undoubtedly disappointed and even hurt him. Yet, still he remained. He never made her feel guilty about it, never gave her stupid ultimatums, always had her back, would take a bullet for her, once took a bullet and still managed to get up and save her ass, he was willing to take a staple to the toe to avoid losing face in front of her, and damned if he didn't fill out those sweatpants. _Hmm… last one may be the tequila talking,_ she realized. But it was all true. Suddenly the risk of missing out on what this amazing man had to offer her seemed far greater than the risk that they would end up hurting each other more together than they would if they continued the way they were now.

It was time for her to do something, time to shit or get off the pot. Though she was worried that after his confession, he may think anything she said or did would be out of pity. Her gaze shifted to the box she had left on the kitchen counter. Twister. She had an idea. She quirked an eyebrow at him and he traced her gaze with his eyes.

"You can't be serious."

"But I can." There was an air of challenge in her voice.

"I have a foot externally coapted and I am under the influence of narcotic analgesics. This is a very inequitable challenge that you have presented me."

"I have no idea what you just said."

"My foot's in a cast, I'm stoned, and you are way more bendy than I am. No fair."

"Why didn't you just say that to begin with?"

"Stoned, remember?" She had to admit, he did seem a little bit more loopy than normal.

"Fine. Then let's level the playing field." She walked to the kitchen and picked up the bottle of tequila she had left their earlier. Before he could stop her she twisted off the lid, held the bottle to her mouth, and took three deep swallows of the gold liquid.

"This is so not going to end well." Marshall muttered to himself as she took another swig and brought the game into the living room. He remained unmoving on the couch as she pushed the coffee table out of the way and spread the mat on the floor. It wasn't until he actually saw the spotted vinyl tarp that he fully remembered the amount of bodily contact required for this game. _What was she thinking?_

"College rules?"

"I'm afraid to ask, but what, pray tell, are 'college rules'?"

"Jesus Marshall, you never played strip Twister in college?"

"Strip Twister?" he gulped. _At least now he knew what she was thinking…_

"Yeah, Virgin of Guadalupe, every time you fall you lose a piece of clothing."

He took a mental inventory: _T shirt, sweat pants, boxers, one sock_. _Not likely to end well, indeed._ "Do socks count?" They were the only words that somehow managed to find their way out of his mouth.

"Sure, so does your chastity belt. Now cowboy up and get your ass on the mat."

The tequila was starting to make it to Mary's brain at this point, giving her the courage to continue on with her ill-conceived plan. She tossed the spinner over by the mat and rolled up the legs of her jeans to unzip the boots she was wearing. Marshall appeared incredibly tense, sitting on the couch. Though he did seem slightly distracted by the act of her propping each foot on the coffee table and unzipping the knee high boots that had been mostly hidden under her jeans. She couldn't help but to smile at the sight of him staring at her.

Marshall knew he was staring, knew she probably noticed, and knew she would likely maim him as a result, but he couldn't help himself. She had her foot propped on the coffee table and was peeling a tall pair of leather boots off of her exquisitely shaped calves. When she was done she tossed the boots aside and leaned towards him. Then she abruptly grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him up off the couch. The momentum of it nearly slammed him into her. He reached out and stopped himself with a hand on her shoulder. They stood there momentarily, bodies mere inches apart.

She could feel the heat of his body from the proximity. Muscles in his legs and torso shifted slightly to help him regain his balance, and it was as if she could feel a ripple of air from each minute movement. She let go of his t-shirt and dropped her hand. Next she abruptly leaned down and spun the spinner. The arrow stopped at right hand on green. He gulped. She leaned forward and placed her right hand on a green dot and he followed suit. They had their hands placed on the dots as far apart as possible on the mat. Marshall stretched over and flicked the plastic arrow. Left foot blue. Mary managed to get her foot on the blue dot in the same top row as the green dot her hand was on. Marshall's body and appendages were simply too long to contort in the same way, so he ended up cattycornered with his foot on the blue dot next to the one Mary was using. So far so good. Mary spun the device and got right foot yellow. She quickly twisted her body so that her right foot sat easily on the yellow dot directly between her hand and other foot. It put her in a crouched position facing Marshall. He attempted to twist his cast laden foot under his left leg and very quickly lost his balance and footing. He face planted onto the mat.

Mary clapped her hands together excitedly. "Take it off, cowboy." She smiled. He took off his sock and flicked it at her. She made a disgusted face and they both smiled. Marshall realized that so far, this wasn't going so badly. Maybe he would escape unscathed after all. He re-positioned himself on the mat, this time with his limbs on the colored dots that better supported his weight. His spin – right foot green. They both unintentionally went for the same spot. The contact caught them both off guard and they recoiled. Both ended up on their asses. Marshall realized that maybe this wasn't going so well after all.

Mary stripped off her socks. Marshall shyly pulled off his t-shirt and realized how unfair this game was, as Mary still had on a sweater over a shirt, jeans, and presumably underwear and a bra. Just two more tumbles and he'd be completely naked. It was time to go on the offensive.

Her breath hitched as Marshall pulled the white shirt over his head. He always stayed in shape. He had the body of a runner, lean and defined. It wasn't the beefy brawn that she usually went for, but it was just as attractive in its own right. The bashfulness in his demeanor after removing the article of clothing really sold it though . There was nothing for him to be ashamed of regarding his physique, yet for some reason he seemed nervous about it. Normally Mary would have found timid to be a giant turn-off in a man she was attempting to divest of clothes, but this was Marshall. In this one case, she found it rather endearing. But now, something had changed. They returned to the positions on the mat, yet Marshall now took the spots right next to her. If she needed to reach for another spot, she would be going over or under him. The next spine forced just a scenario. She snaked a leg between his to get her left foot to a red spot. The back of her thigh brushed against the front of his, and she couldn't ignore the reflexive tightening of the muscles in her abdomen and gluts. Even through the material of his sweatpants, she could feel the defined muscle groups of his quadriceps and the little contractions they made against her leg as he steadied himself. He reached to spin the arrow and his announcement of "left hand yellow" was whispered breathily against her neck. Her knees gave out before she even tried to move and she found herself flush against the mat, with him still towering over her.

Two could play at this game. She pulled off the lightweight sweater she had been wearing, leaving only the low cut, dusty rose colored tank top she had worn underneath. Marshall didn't change his position any, but as Mary returned to the mat, this time she somehow worked it that each appendage was on the appropriately colored spot, but she was facing upwards. Two spins and some devious positioning on both their parts suddenly found Marshall on top of her, chests pressed against each other. On the next spin she snaked a leg out from under them, directly between his. Their bodies were pressed together from thigh to shoulder now.

Getting to this point had been nothing short of erotic to either of them. Marshall realized that his remaining clothing left little means of hiding his… enjoyment of the situation, and he decided to not even try. This had been her idea, after all.

There was no ignoring the bulge that was pressing against Mary's inner thigh as she shifted to maintain her balance. With only the scant clothing between their torsos, she could feel the outline of every one of his abdominal muscles. The point of his hip bone was nestled into the hollow just inside hers. Thankfully her face was buried in his shoulder. She had an idea what she would see if she looked him in the face at this moment, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to handle that. Even though the position was somewhat awkward, their bodies fit together as well as their wit and personalities. No one had ever fit into her life as well as Marshall, she wondered what had ever made her think that their bodies would be any different.

Marshall shifted against her to reach the spinner. The intimate contact of his erection rubbing up and down her thigh made her reflexively press her pelvis into him. The position had been precarious to begin with. Between the movement and the increased pressure of her body against his, he momentarily lost his concentration. The casted foot lost its grip and slipped out from under him. His weight fell on top of Mary. The crab-like position she was in had been tenuous at best. With the added weight of Marshall's body her arms gave out and the both crashed to the floor. She was flat on her back and he was on top of her.

"Are you okay?" They both questioned at the same time. Concern for the other's well-being outweighed all other thoughts for the moment. Both were unharmed by the fall. Between the tequila, Vicodan, and built up sexual tension, it took another moment before their current position registered and Marshall began to giggle.

"What's so funny, Nitwit?" She couldn't help but slightly laugh in response.

"Look at us. We are decorated U.S. Marshals. And we're on the floor playing strip Twister." He propped himself up on his elbows and continued giggling again until Mary's next action stopped him.

She had sobered, and looking him straight in the eyes. She licked her lips and silently used the space he'd given her by resting on his elbows to pull off her shirt.

"What are you…"

"Like you said, we're on the floor playing strip Twister." There was a fiendish glint in her eyes.

She was wearing a plain black satin bra that held her breasts together in a way that Marshall found himself almost unable to take his eyes from. He felt his hands moving towards them of their own volition and he forced himself to look up at her face. She was chewing nervously at her bottom lip, rolling it back and forth between her teeth anxiously, seductively. He felt her thumbs hook into the top of the waistband of his sweatpants and start to apply downward pressure. His eyes shut reflexively and a small sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper escaped his throat.

"Mary." He panted and forced his eyes open. "I can't… I… I'm done playing games with you."

"Good. I am too." She leaned forward and kissed him. Her hands slowly slid from his waist up his body to cup his face. It took a few seconds for his brain to catch up to her body. As soon as he did, it was like an explosion of lips and tongues and teeth. They kissed like they were using up the last breath they would ever take. It was emotional, sensual, erotic, and lustful all rolled into one. The kiss lasted until they absolutely had to come up for air and ended with Mary raking his bottom lip gently through her teeth. They panted for a while, neither able to speak.

"Mare…" He was terrified, terrified that this meant something completely different to her than it did to him.

"Don't worry. You heard me. I said no more games."

"But what happened? What… Why?"

"I guess I've always known that what's between us is special. I just finally realized that missing out on what could be there is worse than worrying what might happen if it doesn't work."

"And all this time, all I had to do was stick my foot in a stapler?"

She shoved his shoulder. Then she leaned forward and kissed him again. Her hands were back on the waistband of his sweats before he realized it. As she began pulling on them he stopped her again.

"Seriously? Talking time is over." She was getting frustrated.

"I couldn't agree more. But I don't want to do this here, like this." He responded.

"Don't tell me you've got some romantic schmoop planned out for this that you've been fantasizing about for years. I don't know if I could deal with that."

"Does my broken foot and temperamental back preferring a bed over a spotted tarp on my living room floor count as schmoop?"

"Practicality I can deal with." She smiled and pushed him off of her.

They were in the bedroom before they knew how they had gotten there. They were wrapped around each other, mouths and hands everywhere. Her jeans were off before they hit the bed. His pants were pushed off as he climbed in after her. Underwear was stripped in short order. Hands explored each other intensely but briefly. There had been essentially seven years of foreplay between them, so neither needed much before they were near the point of exploding. They rolled around a bit, jockeying for position, before Mary pinned him on his back and straddled him. The weight of her sitting on his lap was intoxicating. She leaned back and one of his hands cupped her buttocks while the other traced up to her breasts. She had one hand tangled in his hair and the other splayed on his chest. They shared one long look into each other's eyes before she shifted and lowered herself onto him. Their bodies moved together in tune, in a way that only two people that had worked together for years could. Slower thrusts at first, the intensity building quickly. They switched position to prolong the experience. All the experience they had working together, reading each other's signals, interacting seamlessly all translated to the bed. All too soon Mary found herself climaxing. Her body's contractions sent him over the edge and he went over the edge with her.

He collapsed on top of her, but quickly rolled to his side. He knew Mary was not into cuddling and pinning her beneath him would likely make her feel the need to bolt. He gave her her space, but kept as much contact as she would allow.

Normally she didn't allow the men that shared her bed to hold her after they had performed their function, but again Marshall was different. Maybe it was because she didn't view this sex as some service to be completed, but just a part of their whole relationship. Regardless, she was quite content with him snuggled against her side. She kissed him one more time and smiled, "Now that's a game I wouldn't mind playing again." They both smiled and drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

The End.


End file.
